


In Culmination

by FaeryQueen07



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-14
Updated: 2011-07-14
Packaged: 2017-12-24 18:36:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/943295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaeryQueen07/pseuds/FaeryQueen07
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With his coronation just a week away, Arthur has decided it’s time for the secrets between he and Merlin to end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Culmination

**Author's Note:**

> This is for the lovely [](http://i-m-b00.livejournal.com/profile)[**i_m_b00**](http://i-m-b00.livejournal.com/) , who bid on me for the [](http://help-japan.livejournal.com/profile)[**help_japan**](http://help-japan.livejournal.com/) charity auction. Hopefully this is what she wanted. Many thanks to [](http://dracosoftie.livejournal.com/profile)[**dracosoftie**](http://dracosoftie.livejournal.com/) and [](http://roozette.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://roozette.livejournal.com/)**roozette** who are my two constant cheerleaders. I apologize in advance for the gratuitous character. ;-)

A week before the coronation, Arthur gave up. Merlin had had nearly five years to come out, to admit that there was more to him than he so stalwartly claimed; an open book he was not. He steadily resisted all of the openings that Arthur gave him, though there had been the odd moment or two where he looked ready to confess, to tell all. Unfortunately, many of those opportunities coincided with their almost unending battles against those corrupted by magic, but that—that was completely beside the point. They had been through too much together for Arthur to take the throne of Camelot without Merlin by his side, fully acknowledged for all he was.

He found Merlin in the newly vacated King’s chambers, making the bed that Arthur was to be sleeping in starting that night. Or would be, had he been intending to stay in the castle. Uther had already been moved to the Eastern wing where he could rest in peace, away from the prying eyes of the citizens he was too far gone to rule any longer. Gaius remained with him, accompanied by a woman Arthur remembered from before, though he pretended not to. He had been doing it for so long it is almost second nature. She was of no threat, of that he was certain. Not anymore, at least.

“Merlin, pack my bag. I’m going hunting.”

“Sire?” Merlin looked up, the familiar sadness lurking deep within his eyes. “Have you already told your knights?”

“No, I have not,” Arthur replied, dropping into his chair. He watched Merlin closely, taking in his demeanor before continuing. “I will not be requiring my knights. Or any guards.”

The corners of Merlin’s eyes pulled tight and the line of his shoulders grew tense. He was fretting already, something that normally would have amused Arthur. Today, though, it only saddened and annoyed him by turns.

“Sire, it isn’t safe for you to travel outside Camelot’s walls alone. There have been rumors of bandits—”

“There are always rumors of bandits, _Mer_ lin. Besides, I won’t be alone. _You_ will be going with me.”

Merlin froze in the midst of tucking the fresh sheets over the mattress, clearly unhappy with the declaration. He did not, however, voice his displeasure. It was yet another change to Merlin that Arthur had noted recently. In the near year since Arthur had taken on the role of prince regent, Merlin had become a mere shade of his former self. His smiles had dimmed, his laughter all but vanished. Arthur was still ashamed that he’d had to have it pointed out to him by _Gwaine_ of all people.

“I’m not sure what it is you think _I_ could do.” Merlin’s gaze slid to his work, his voice unhappily plaintive.

“You could annoy them to death with your incessant chatter—oh wait, that’s right. You don’t talk anymore.”

At that, Merlin turned to face him completely, eyebrows rising high on his forehead. “And what is it we are doing now, _Sire_?” There was glint in his eye, there and gone in a flash, but it gave Arthur hope that the Merlin from before had not been completely lost. If he was, Arthur would be as well.

“ _I_ am talking. You are turning into a nagging housewife. Enough with the bed, Merlin. I won’t be sleeping on it for at least two nights. Have one of the other servants see to my rooms while you pack our things. Oh, and Merlin? The winter’s chill has not yet left, so pack warmly. I will not listen to your chattering teeth all night.”

His only response was a great heaving sigh, but Merlin left off his work as instructed and pulled out Arthur’s packs. Into them he placed an extra quilt, sleep clothes, two sets of clothes and Arthur’s warmest jacket. After a moment’s hesitation, he added two pairs of gloves. The second pack contained a heavy fur blanket as well as one last set of clothes and thick sleep hose. He was diligent in his packing, rolling the clothing rather than folding it, tucking it deep inside. Arthur wondered if magic was involved, if it was the reason Merlin was able to fit so much, but there was no tell-tale hum in the air, no faint glow forming at the tips of Merlin’s fingers.

When he was done, Merlin ducked into the ante-chamber to gather his own – much more _meager_ – belongings. He had only one pack of his own, and Arthur frowned, wondering how it was he had managed to overlook the shabby state of his manservant’s possessions. Unlike Arthur, Merlin had only a thin coat to fight off the cold of the forest floor in the winter. When they returned, before the coronation, Arthur would have to see that Merlin was outfitted more appropriately.

A fourth pack was withdrawn from beneath Arthur’s bed, but this one Merlin simply tucked under his arm. _For food_ , Arthur realized, and when Merlin moved to the door, Arthur followed. Merlin must have thought their destinations to be different, because as they made their descent into the lowest part of the castle, where the kitchens resided, Merlin stared at him askance.

“Where are you going?” he asked, sounding far more exasperated than Arthur thought he had any right to.

“With you. Is that a problem?”

Merlin huffed in reply, but made no real complaint. It was just as well; it looked poorly when the prince was caught arguing with a servant in the halls. The rest of the walk was made in silence, the fingers of Merlin’s right hand twitching. It was a tic he had developed in the last year, one Arthur had only picked up on after walking in on Merlin late one night, fingers out as he checked off impossibly long lists of things he felt needed be done. Arthur had left him to it, not daring to interrupt, but two days later, Merlin had found two young boys suddenly in his employ who were more than equipped to handle his more base chores.

Merlin had greeted Arthur, accompanied by Gwaine, in his chambers later that night with a steaming hot bath, Gaius’ special balm for sore muscles and a thank you in his eyes. The small smile that had graced Merlin’s face had been worth the extra coin Arthur paid out of the coffers to see the boys’ time and energy compensated. It had been then that Gwaine had leaned over, whispering,

“It’s been too long since he smiled, princess. Whatever it is you’ve done, keep doing it.”

It had been an unwanted compliment, one that had left Arthur furious and ashamed in turns. Gwaine had made his excuses and as Arthur had relaxed in the bath, he had promised himself that Merlin would smile more, not only because Merlin deserved to, but because Arthur depended upon those smiles. More than he cared to admit.

They reached the kitchens to find only three servants present. They were the ones who kept the kitchen fires burning through the long hours of the night and laid out the cook’s ingredients so that when she descended upon them in the wee hours of the morn, everything was ready. They greeted Merlin cordially, and Merlin was in the midst of explaining why they were there when a door near the back of the room flew open and a small child came hurtling out. He – at least, Arthur assumed it was a boy, terrible as he was at determining gender in someone too young to handle a sword – launched himself at Merlin, tackling him about the legs and nearly toppling them both. Only Arthur’s hand at Merlin’s shoulder kept them from falling.

Arthur was about to point out the dangers of children in the kitchen when he noticed the look of the boy, his faint resemblance to Merlin’s not-so-magical friend William. Something in his chest tightened at that and he let the moment pass. He would hold his tongue until they were alone.

“Evening, Owen,” Merlin said, reaching out to ruffle the boy's hair. “Have you been a good boy?”

The child, Owen, nodded enthusiastically. Then his gaze shifted to Arthur and quick as a flash, he dove behind Merlin’s legs, peeking out shyly. As strange as children were, Arthur was not unfamiliar with them, and he dropped into a crouch, solemnly offering his hand to the boy.

“Hello, Owen. I’m Arthur, your prince.”

Owen glanced up at Merlin, and at his nod, tucked his little hand into Arthur’s much larger one. “’Lo, sire,” Owen whispered, cheeks pinking. He pulled his hand back quickly, thumb migrating to his mouth almost immediately.

When Arthur stood, he a shot Merlin a look that very distinctly said, ‘ _We will be talking about this later_ ,’ though he said nothing aloud. Merlin nodded once, then, with the fingers of one hand sifting through Owen’s fine, dark brown hair, began listing off the things they would need for their trip. As the three women set about gathering bread, cheese, dried meat and fruit and several skins of water, Merlin knelt down before Owen, thumb brushing gently over a baby-soft cheek.

“Owen, I must attend Prince Arthur on a hunt. You’ll be a good boy, won’t you?”

Eyes wide and slightly frightened, Owen nodded. His hand came up, fingers sticky with spit, and Merlin did not flinch when Owen patted him on the cheek. He pressed a kiss to Owen’s forehead and stood.

“Anna added some sweetmeats as well,” one of the women said as she appeared at Merlin’s elbow. “Sire, Merlin.” She curtsied quickly before returning to her work.

“Thank you, Martha,” Merlin called out. He sorted through the food they had generously packed into his bag, then collected up the water skins. “All right, sire. Shall I ready the horses?”

Arthur tore his gaze away from where Owen was curling up in a bed of furs, furs Arthur recalled passing down to Merlin when new ones had been presented to Arthur. He had wondered why they were never in Merlin’s room. Now he knew. He and Merlin would have to discuss this as well, because Merlin was far too self-sacrificing for his own good.

Arthur returned to his rooms with the pack of food while Merlin left to saddle their horses. It was late enough that the stable boys would be asleep, though the stablemaster was still awake. Gathering the rest of the bags and their sleep rolls, he made his way through the darkened castle and outside, arriving at the stables just as Merlin was leading Arthur’s stallion into the courtyard.

“I sent a messenger to alert Leon and Lancelot of where we are going.” When Arthur opened his mouth, Merlin plunged on determinedly. “You are to be king soon, Arthur. You cannot just leave your people defenseless. They won’t follow us.”

 _No_ , Arthur thought bitterly, _because my closest knights already know what you are. Lancelot first, then Gwaine, Leon and Elyan. And they protect your secret not from an ailing king, but from their prince. From me_.

“So be it. The night is still young, Merlin. Let us go before it is too dark to ride.”

Merlin ducked back into the stable and came out with his horse, a mild-mannered mare that did not shy from the magic her master cast while upon her back. Arthur had chosen her specifically for gentle nature after witnessing Merlin being thrown from his gelding. It had been one of the worst moments of Arthur’s life and he decided then that even if Merlin was determined to keep his secret, Arthur would do whatever it took to keep him safe. Even from himself.

Arthur mounted first, reining in his horse as he watched Merlin do the same, graceful and confident after five years of practice. He followed Arthur’s lead through the city and together they passed into the forests of Camelot.

On a normal hunting trip, Arthur would lead his men into the forest that lay just beyond the citadel’s walls, never having to stray too far before they found game. But when Arthur wished to be alone, he instead went to the Darkling Wood, a forbidden forest just to the west of the castle. Uther had placed a ban on the area just after the Purge, declaring the entire wood to be contaminated by dark magic.

There was a stillness to the air, a lack of life that went beyond the deadened trees and the bristled shrubs whose leaves no longer grew. The soil was dark, wet looking despite the absolute dryness of it, and Arthur knew it was the blood of all the people who had died there. Once upon a time he had imagined them to be the victims of terrifyingly powerful warlocks, innocents who had been dragged from their homes and sacrificed to a religion older than any God. Now he gazed around the area and thought that perhaps this was where _true_ innocents had been slaughtered; Druids and sorcerers whose only crimes had been that they were cursed with the ability to wield magic. The thought of it, that his father had condoned something so horrific, made his stomach twist in upon itself, and he understood a little better why Merlin clutched so desperately to his secret.

“Sire?”

Merlin’s voice cut through his thoughts and Arthur turned in the saddle to face him, face carefully blank. “I would never allow this to happen to you, Merlin, you must know that.”

It was almost comical the way Merlin’s brows pulled together and confusion made his eyes go dark. A sound escaped him that was almost a laugh. Almost. It was too terrified, to questioning and shattered and miserable. Lips moving soundlessly, Merlin shook his head, then looked around. Arthur could tell the moment Merlin finally sensed it, the low thrum of _magic_ that emanated from everything around them. It hung in the air, thick enough that even Arthur could taste it, though it had taken him several visits before he could name it.

Eyes on the towering skeletal treetops, Merlin tightened his grip on Ceri’s reigns. She whickered softly, shook her head but remained steady. Arthur loved her all the more for how calm she was. With a sharp cluck of his tongue, Arthur had Ilar backing up slowly until the two horses were side-by-side. Ceri whuffed at Ilar, but allowed him to lip at her, content that he was not going to upset her rider.

“Arthur, this place. We shouldn’t be here.”

“Don’t tell me you believe all those stories, Merlin.”

Merlin turned to look at him, face unreadable. “That this is a place of darkness, that those who trespass here will be struck dead by an unseen force? Don’t _you_ , sire?”

Arthur shook his head and dropped his hands to the horn of his saddle. Ilar pranced in a place a bit, but settled quickly. “No, I do not. I used to come here, when I was boy.” He swung himself down and ran a hand over Ilar’s velvety flank. He did not continue speaking until Merlin was standing beside him, fingers fussing over saddle straps. “I discovered it when I twelve. I was separated from the guards in charge of me. I stayed here overnight because it was raining, and the next day, I wandered down to the stream until my father’s men found me. I mentioned it only in passing and Sir Lionel, Sir Leon’s uncle, told me never to speak of it before the king. I never did.”

“But you came back.” It was deliberately not a question.

“I needed a place that was just mine. I waited until I was fourteen before venturing out alone. I would sneak out at night, when my father was too busy hunting for magic users to worry about his wayward son.”

With a sigh, Merlin lifted the packs free of the horses and set them aside. He would need to clear away the brambles and rocks, but the area Arthur had brought them to was flat and well-sheltered, despite the lack of living trees. As Merlin set to work, he asked, “But what does this have to do with me? When we got here, you—you said you would never allow ‘this’ to happen to me.”

“The people who were killed here, they were magic users. Quiet, well-meaning people who lived off the earth and asked for little from their king. They were killed because they possessed magic. I would never allow that to happen to you.”

“I—why would it? I’m—I’m not—” Merlin laughed, but it was verging on hysterical and his hands were shaking.

Arthur grabbed him roughly, turning him around so sharply that Merlin stumbled. His face was pale, partially from the wan light of the moon but mostly Arthur guessed, out of fear. That was all it took to bring out all the resentment and anger that had coming to a slow boil inside Arthur. His grip went from firm to forceful and he gave Merlin a hard shake.

“Did you think I would never guess, Merlin? Were you so confident that I would remain ignorant in the face of all that makes you _you_? Tell me, _Merlin_ , how many of my men know the secret you so diligently guard from _me_?”

“Arthur—Arthur, don’t—it isn’t what you think. Please, I—”

“You what? You _meant_ to tell me, is that it? You were _planning_ on it? You were just waiting for the right moment, weren’t you, _Merlin_?”

It was stupid, rash in a way Arthur was not allowed to be. Shoving Merlin away from him, Arthur whipped his sword from its sheath and brought it down in a sweeping arc. And just as he intended, Merlin reacted on instinct, his hand flying up, sparking white-gold as he sent Arthur sailing across the clearing.

Arthur’s sword was wrenched from his hand on impact with the ground, disappearing into what Arthur imagined were once prosperous blackberry bushes. There would be no reaching it anytime soon, but that was okay. He had what he needed from Merlin; a magnificent show of power.

The blast had sent Merlin back as well, but he was quicker to gain his feet, scurrying over the packed earth to Arthur’s side. He was as white as the undyed linens made from lamb’s wool, eyes shimmering blue-gold. He looked stricken, sick to his stomach, and Arthur struggled to sit up, his whole body feeling bruised.

“Oh god, oh god. Arthur—Arthur, I’m so sorry. I didn’t—I would never—Please, you have to believe me.” He let out a choked sob and his hands moved deftly, checking for broken bones and other injuries.

Wrapping his fingers around Merlin’s, Arthur stilled fantic frantic movements. “I don’t suppose this is how all the others found out, is it? You attempting to blast them unconscious?” He winced as he sat up completely and rolled his shoulders. Nothing out of joint, thankfully, just sore. “You know, Merlin, if it weren’t for all the times you have successfully saved my arse, I would think you were as terrible a sorcerer as you are a manservant.”

The laugh that broke free from Merlin was breathless, still weighted with tension and discord, but no longer clogged with terror. “You did that on purpose? Are you an idiot as well as an ass?”

It took Arthur a moment to realize that Merlin’s shoulders were shaking not from laughter but because he was crying. With a huff and a roll of his eyes, Arthur took hold of his arm, dragged him close. “No, you’re still the owner of that particular title. Also, I’m about to be your king. You cannot continue calling me names.”

Merlin smirked through his tears at that. “Someone has to. Otherwise you just get a big head stuffed full of your imagined self-importance.” He sniffled once and swiped at his face with his sleeve.

“I’ll have you know, I am _very_ important.”

“You are, Arthur, you—why are we here? Oh _god_ , you _know_! How do you—when? When did you find out?!” He looked close to tears again, so Arthur left him sitting on the forest floor. With a space cleared for sleeping and an area already designated for a campfire – Arthur had set it up long ago, though he had not been back since Merlin’s arrival, and he marveled at how well it had held up – there was little left for Arthur to do. He laid out the rolls and dug out a small snack of bread and cheese. He wished there was wine, but it would only fog his mind and Arthur needed to be clear-headed for this.

“I began to wonder shortly after the Questing Beast, and I knew well before you let the Great Dragon escape when we were meant to kill him.”

Arthur had meant to bring it up after they had returned to castle, once they were cleaned and patched up, but then Uther had announced that with the threat of the Great Dragon taken care of, search parties were to be dispatched at once in an effort to find Morgana. Arthur had forgotten in the days that followed, unable to cope with the certainty of his manservant’s betrayal in the face of Morgana’s disappearance.

“Is it so bad, Merlin? My knowing? Were you ever planning on telling me? Or was I never to know?” Arthur could not help the bitterness in his voice, and he bent to the task of getting the fire going just to keep Merlin from seeing just how much that idea hurt Arthur.

“No. _No_ , Arthur!” Merlin scrambled to Arthur’s side and he wrapped a hand around Arthur’s bicep, tugging until they were facing one another. “You are the only one I’ve wanted to tell. The others, they found out. But I’ve wanted you to know from the very start. I just...you father has outlawed it. I couldn’t risk him finding out and you forcing me to leave. Or you hating me for being magic in the first place.”

Arthur wanted to deny the accusation, but the words never came. Yes, after the Merlin’s second year in Camelot they had grown closer, but that first year? Arthur was fairly certain he would not only have allowed Merlin to be burned, but that he would have ordered it himself, blinded as he would have been by the betrayal. It sickened him to admit that, even to himself.

“What about last year—” Even before Merlin could reply, Arthur knew the answer. Last year, Morgana had returned, twisted into something dark and hateful. She had killed innocents as she sought to destroy Uther.

“I think—I think I’m the reason she finally lost herself to Morgause.”

“What do you mean?”

Merlin retreated to his bedroll, tucking his hands into his lap. He was so hunched in on himself that it pained Arthur to look at him.

“Do you—do you remember when we fought the knights of Medhir? And returned to find everyone in the castle asleep but Morgana?” Arthur’s stomach twisted viciously and he nodded. “I told you that to lift the curse, we had to destroy the source.” He lifted his head, looking Arthur right in the eye as he said, “Morgana was the source...and I poisoned her.”

Arthur supposed he could have raged, could have let Merlin continue to shoulder the blame, but it was not that simple. Nothing was. “She had started to change.”

“She trusted me.”

“Yes, but she also claimed to love my father and defied him viciously on a number of occasions. My father never sent searchers out after that Druid, the one who stole the crystal. One of the guards mentioned seeing her heading toward the dungeons that night, before the alarm went up. He told my father.”

Merlin had no recollection of that, had been completely unaware and he waited to hear what was said next.

“He died for his trouble, Merlin. His crime was treason to the crown.”

“Arthur—”

Arthur shook his head. “He trusted her, and she took advantage of him. That aside, what of this past year, Merlin? Things have settled down, Sirs Elyan, Gwaine, Lancelot and Percival have been fully accepted by the rest of my knights. Why not tell me?”

“What was I supposed to say, Arthur? Congratulations on being such a wonderful prince regent and oh, I happen to be a bit magic?”

“Are you?” Arthur asked, frowning. “Are you _actually_ magic, or do you just _have_ magic?”

With a sigh, Merlin broke off a piece of his cheese and popped it into his mouth. He grimaced a little at the sharpness of it, but swallowed it down dutifully. “I’ve had magic all my life. Gaius was convinced that that meant I was literally magic, but that’s not me. That’s _you_. Your parents could never have had a child without the use of magic, and even with the balance restored after your mother’s death, Nimueh took more than she should have. She created a legend. So the Old Religion created a conduit. Me. One made from magic, the other _for_ magic. I was literally created for you.” He frowned at his choice of words but made no attempt to correct them. Arthur was secretly glad for it.

It was too much to think about, all of Merlin’s words. It sounded less like a destiny and more like doom. He wondered if Merlin ever felt that way, trapped in an existence that relied so completely on another person. Unable to ask, Arthur distracted himself. He laid down on his bedroll, hands tucked beneath his head as he stared up at the stars peeking through skeletal branches.

“I used to think all magic was evil, that it would corrupt the soul and turn good men into bad.” He tilted his head back and up, searching out Merlin’s eyes in the dark. They shone blue and gold, but he knew this time, it truly _was_ a trick of the light. “But it never got you. Or Gaius. And I’m sure there are many others out there, like the Druids. No, having that kind of power only brings out the darkness that already lurks inside one’s heart and mind. Morgana—”

“Was afraid. She was _terrified_ , Arthur. If Uther had discovered she had magic, he would not have hesitated to kill her. Or worse, trap her in that dungeon until she died. She watched him kill hundreds of people unflinchingly, without mercy. She knew what was in store for her. His hate, his anger toward magic—she allowed that to be the reason she succumbed. That was _her_ destiny, one she made for herself.”

“But magic _can_ be good, right? It isn’t always about taking lives and creating destruction.”

“I used it to heal Gwen’s father,” Merlin admitted, his smile so sad Arthur’s heart ached. “I used it to bargain for your life after the Questing Beast bit you. I—”

“Show me.”

The request had clearly startled Merlin, and he blinked at Arthur almost dazedly. “But what—how?”

“I don’t know. Just—what would you do? With your magic? If you could do anything at all, what would it be?”

“I’d use it to clean your socks for one. Now _those_ should be outlawed.”

Merlin smiled, but Arthur could still see the unease in his eyes, the tightness at the corners of his mouth could not be disguised by jokes. With a sigh of frustration, Arthur reached up and tugged Merlin down, rearranging all of Merlin’s gangly limbs on his own bedroll.

“Right then. Please continue.”

“I’ve already used it to mend your armor.” At Arthur’s sharp breath, Merlin shrugged. “Didn’t see the harm in it, really. I used it make the metal a bit a stronger. I did the same for all your knights. And even the guards, lousy as they are.”

“Lousy? _Lousy_?!”

“Well, they haven’t really managed to keep anyone locked up in those dungeons, have they? Everyone keeps escaping!”

“Shut up, Merlin! I mean, get on with it. And stop insulting the guards.”

A slightly strained silence settled over them as Merlin thought, unconsciously mimicking Arthur’s pose. After a moment, he rolled to his side and propped himself up onto one elbow. His face was solemn, eyes so wide and dark they reminded Arthur of the sky just after a storm.

“What it is then, Merlin, that’s got you all serious looking?”

“I’d wrap you up in it,” Merlin whispered.

The words barely reached Arthur’s ears, hushed as they were, and he thought perhaps he had misheard. “You want—can you actually do that?”

Merlin nodded. “I could, yeah. I want—I want to, sometimes. So much it hurts. I want to just press it against your skin, cover you from head to toe so that no one can hurt you. You have this great destiny, Arthur, to be the greatest king that has ever lived. To unite all of Albion. But—but you’re more than that.” There was the faintest glimmer of tears in Merlin’s eyes, but he looked more angry than sad as he continued.

“You’re you, and maybe, back on that day when we first met, that meant nothing to me, but now? Now, Arthur, I’m not sure I could even _breathe_ without you. And I could say it’s all because there needed to be a balance in this world, and to a point, that’s true, but even if all the magic in the land was sucked away and we were left, just two completely normal people, there is no other place I would rather be than at your side.”

“ _Show_ me,” Arthur repeated huskily, and Merlin did.

He pressed his left hand to Arthur's chest, palm resting just over Arthur's heart and his fingers splayed. The heat emanating from them was unnaturally warm, and Arthur could hear the faint humming of Merlin's power as it gathered in his fingertips. It should have been terrifying, knowing he had no way to stop Merlin from crushing him, but Arthur's faith in him had grown too unshakeable over the years, and all he felt was a gentle tingling sensation and a sense of calm, peace.

Arthur kept his eyes closed as Merlin wove his magic all around him. He imagined he could see the single threads of it behind his lids, the white-gold pulsing in time with his heartbeat. Then it settled over him, beneath his clothes, like a second layer of skin. It was startling, how aware of it he was, and Arthur wondered how he had ever _not_ noticed it. As it warmed, he felt his body begin to respond and he tensed. His skin prickled all over and he could have handled that, he could have. But then his cock began to stir. He blinked his eyes back open, biting back a gasp.

Merlin leaned in closer, eyes alight with too many feelings for Arthur to decipher, though he tried. As Merlin continued to speak, his tone went from a mere murmur to intimate and reverent. The words puffed over Arthur’s cheek and temple, warm and insistent.

“I would fill you with it, sink everything I can – everything I _am_ – into you and ground it there, so that nothing could ever touch you unless I want it to. I could. The magic is already there, really, but it’s uncontrolled, slightly chaotic. I could give it a purpose, give it a course to flow through.”

“Merlin.” Arthur’s voice was rough even to his own ears.

He could feel Merlin’s gaze on him, watched as Merlin’s gaze dipped lower and lower, eyes widening when he saw the way Arthur’s trousers were tenting so obviously. Arthur could hear him swallow, and then Merlin was staring at him again, licking his lips as his throat worked convulsively. Arthur wanted to make excuses, to think of a lie that would explain away his arousal, but his throat was too dry to speak.

“I—you can feel it? When the magic touches you?”

Arthur nodded, and he knew that his face was turning red with embarrassment. He hoped that Merlin would blame it on the slowly dying fire. If Merlin noticed, he said nothing and Arthur was glad of it. He no longer hated and feared magic, but he could not escape the shame that burned through him as he realized that he found Merlin’s magic so arousing. It was wrong in a fundamental way he could not describe and he felt almost dirty. As though reading his thoughts, Merlin leaned down and pressed his cheek to Arthur’s so he could whisper in his ear—

“I could make you feel so good, Arthur. If you let me, I could—it would feel amazing, like nothing you’ve ever experienced before.” As he spoke, his magic flared to life, illuminating the small campsite. The horses whickered from where they were tied.

The cold that had begun to seep into Arthur’s body from ground was chased away by heat of Merlin and his magic, leaving Arthur only the darkness to cover his inappropriate response. It only got worse when Merlin pressed in close, earnest and worried as he bit at his lip. Arthur swallowed his _yes_ and _please_ and _show me_ , suddenly too afraid of everything to speak. His voice, he knew, would give him away, so he simply nodded his permission.

When Merlin sighed, his warm breath slid over Arthur’s cheek and Arthur shivered. Even though he knew what Merlin was about to do, there was no way for Arthur to prepare for it. The all-over blanketed touch of Merlin’s magic began to shift until it was focused. It took Arthur a second to realize that what he was feeling was hands. Dozens of hands were petting him, stroking down his arms and legs and across his chest. One of Merlin’s hands, his _real_ hand, was clutching at Arthur’s hair while the other hovered just over his mouth, fingers trembling ever-so-slightly.

Arthur let out a shaky breath and let his lips part. It was all the invitation that Merlin needed, and his eyes closed for just a moment as he seemed to gather himself. Then his thumb was there, pressing against Arthur’s bottom lip, dragging it down. A single finger dipped inside Arthur’s mouth, tracing over slightly crooked teeth. It should have been impossible to feel the way he did, but Arthur could not recall any other moment he had experience being quite so intimate.

The area surrounding them was warm despite the light frost settling over the dead forest, and Arthur lost himself in it. He barely noticed when his clothes all but melted away, his attention locked on the invisible hands that were roaming free over every inch of his skin. One of them curled around his cock and Arthur choked back a startled gasp, eyes flying open. Merlin was still watching him, gaze steady and undemanding, but it was clear he would not stop unless Arthur ordered him to. This Merlin was different, more confident than Arthur had ever seen him. Part of him wondered if it was the magic that made him seem so self-assured and he felt guilt flicker at the edges of his consciousness, worrying that he Merlin had been forced to deny this part of himself for so long.

A particularly hard stroke made Arthur buck and moan; his worries dissolved as he saw the way Merlin shuddered in response, eyes blazing. What he was doing to Arthur, Merlin himself and not his magic, was responsible for the proud tilt of Merlin’s spine and the look of confidence on his face.

“Merlin,” Arthur sighed, and he wanted to say more, but the words eluded him.

Two hands pushed Arthur’s thighs apart, and he felt his face grow hot as he realized how exposed he was. As if to confirm this, a finger slid up his cleft and then back, settling deliberately over his entrance. Arthur tensed reflexively because it was wrong, what Merlin intended to do. Arthur was aware that his men sometimes lay with each other on long campaigns to ease their stress and loneliness; he'd even done it himself on occasion. But this…this was not a man settling between his legs, it was _magic_. Allowing it to penetrate him, to slip inside his body, should have felt wrong. It was wrong that Arthur wanted, but god help him, he did.

The digit inside him was slick, another benefit of Merlin’s power, no doubt, and it moved easily within him. Arthur’s jaw clenched as he forced his body to not fight the invasion, and after a long moment he began to relax. He had heard it could hurt even with preparation, but the magical finger moved inside him easily. Wanton groans and gasps filled the small clearing, and it took Arthur a moment to realize _he_ was the one making them. His chest clenched with embarrassment even as his body loosened and opened for Merlin's magic, his hips writhing on the ground, eager to take more of the pleasurable intrusion into his body.

“God, Arthur,” Merlin whispered, eyes locked on Arthur's body as it twisted and bucked under the assault of his hands and his magic. He'd never pleasured anyone this way, with body and magic alike, but it seemed so natural to give all of himself to Arthur. His magic wholeheartedly agreed, thrumming almost painfully under his skin. Any contact he had with Arthur was almost electric, sending sparks of pleasure through him that should have made it difficult to concentrate and keep the spell up. The effect was just the opposite, though, focusing his magic and funneling it into Arthur, only to have it bounce back when Merlin touched him. “Look at me, Arthur.”

Blue eyes blinked open as Merlin's words broke through the fog of arousal, dilated and out-of-focus as Arthur tried to lift his head to better meet Merlin's gaze. Arthur's cheeks were still pinked, though Merlin couldn't tell if it was from embarrassment or arousal. Not that it mattered; the knowledge that Arthur found his magic arousing was heady and exhilarating.

“Touch me,” Merlin breathed, eyes fluttering shut when Arthur's callused palm brushed against his cheek, the touch light but still thrilling. Arthur's touches became less tentative as Merlin's breath hitched at the contact, and when Merlin opened his eyes as Arthur's thumb stroked across his bottom lip, he saw that Arthur's eyes were wide and bewildered as he stared at his own hand like it was something not under his own control.

Merlin knew the feeling. His body had begun to absolutely _sing_ in response to Arthur's light caresses, and he would bet anything that Arthur was feeling something similar. Merlin had never experienced anything like it; it was almost like he could feel Arthur's pleasure along with his own. Lust was burning through him, his mind almost consumed with the need to sink himself into Arthur. It was as if his magic recognized Arthur and was urging them to join together, and from the tiny mewling noises Arthur was making as he ground himself against Merlin's hip, Merlin guessed Arthur felt it, too.

Arthur thrust up hungrily as Merlin's magic flared, sending tendrils of itself deeper into him. The choked, needy sound Arthur made was enough to bring Merlin back into his right mind, and he immediately withdrew his magic, horrified at the thought that he'd practically forced himself on Arthur. He'd been out of control with lust, and the dawning horror on Arthur's face as their proximity was reduced made Merlin cringe with shame. He'd very nearly taken Arthur right there on the forest floor with no concern for Arthur's comfort or their own safety. Anyone could have happened along while they'd been otherwise engaged, which could have proven fatal for either or both of them.

“Arthur, I—” Merlin faltered, unsure of what to say. An apology would have sounded wooden, since he wasn't really _sorry_. He did regret how fast he'd taken things, but he knew deep down inside that he'd been attracted to Arthur since the very beginning. And what they'd been doing had felt so _right_ , almost like coming home. His magic had been both excited and soothed at the same time, something he'd never experienced before. The look of absolute panic on Arthur's face was enough to cool his still-raging libido, and Merlin's chest tightened to the point he could barely breathe. “Oh, God. Arthur, please—”

Arthur rolled away and was on his feet before Merlin could finish his sentence, looking around the clearing for the clothes Merlin had removed. Merlin flushed as he realized he had no idea where he'd sent the items; his magic had acted of its own accord, desperate to get Arthur naked.

Merlin's chagrined grimace seemed to be enough confession for Arthur, but instead of the thunderous rage Merlin was braced for, Arthur seemed to go from anxious and tense to almost slack with relief in seconds, a reluctant smile playing across his lips. He made no move to hide his nudity, and if anything, his flagging erection seemed to bob back to life at the mishap. The sight made Merlin's panic ease slightly; it didn't look as though Arthur hated him.

“Good to know you're still the same incompetent Merlin I've grown to know and love,” Arthur muttered, playing at disgust but sounding nothing other than fond. He paled a bit when he realized what he'd said, but instead of taking it back or trying to cover for himself, Arthur squared his shoulders and met Merlin's bewildered gaze.

“I was distracted,” Merlin protested, breath stuttering when Arthur stalked around the campsite, gaze pinned on the trees that surrounded them.

“We both were,” Arthur said, frowning. Apparently he'd just realized how vulnerable they'd been, and it surprised Merlin that _he'd_ been the first to notice. Safety and security were always first and foremost on Arthur's mind, so the slip was quite telling.

Merlin wanted to cringe away when Arthur turned and studied him, and he could feel his cheeks heat with embarrassment as Arthur's gaze lingered on his erection. He wasn't some blushing virgin, but he also wasn't used to being so openly appreciated by his lovers. He rarely even bothered getting fully undressed, since most of his assignations were rough-and-tumble trysts in the stables or hurried hand jobs behind the armory. Standing completely exposed as Arthur stared at him made Merlin feel strangely exhilarated, especially knowing that Arthur could see him for everything he was.

Merlin held a hand out, eyes flaring gold as he blanketed the clearing with wards that would give them plenty of notice if a predator ventured close. No other humans, Merlin knew, would risk venturing into the Darkling woods, magic user or not. Arthur's nostrils flared as the power swept by him, his erection bobbing. Suddenly embarrassed by his reaction, Arthur tried to turn away, but Merlin wouldn't let him. He crossed the clearing in a few strides, fingers wrapping around Arthur's wrist.

Arthur's glanced guiltily down, eyes closing in mortification at the obvious evidence of his attraction to Merlin's magic. They flew open a second later when Merlin closed his other hand around Arthur's cock, the warmth of it a thousand times better than the magical caress that had stroked him earlier. Arthur could have sobbed in relief; feeling Merlin's magic on his skin was arousing, but it was nothing like feeling _Merlin_ actually against him. All the worry and apprehension that his attraction to Merlin was unnatural fled as Merlin began to slowly stroke him, twisting his wrist as he crested over the head of Arthur's cock in a way that pulled at his foreskin and made Arthur's knees weak.

When the magic rose around him, cocooning around him like a soft cloud to keep him standing, Arthur was ready for it. He leaned into it, accepting it as easily as he accepted Merlin's hand on him, and his body seemed to explode with pleasure. Merlin groaned, too, as if his magic could tell the moment Arthur stopped fighting and gave himself over to it. Merlin staggered forward at the onslaught of arousal that thrummed through him in response, his head coming to rest against Arthur's neck as he kept stroking him, the hand that was wrapped around Arthur's wrist slowly running up Arthur's arm until it twined through Arthur's hair, fisting there so he could hold Arthur in place as he lifted his own head for a wet kiss.

“Merlin, wait. You—God,” Arthur groaned, breaking the kiss and resting his forehead against Merlin's, his knees bowing despite the magic holding him up after a particularly forceful stroke. He pulled his hips away, forcing Merlin to release him. “Earlier, you stopped. I thought—”Arthur swallowed, uncharacteristically at a loss. “I thought you were disgusted by me. I don't—I can't understand it. The magic. I didn't want you to think this was all that—””

“No, Arthur. Never. No,” Merlin murmured, stepping closer and running a hand lightly over Arthur's hip, his fingers lingering to trace a pattern there.

“I just—I don't _understand_. I don't know why—” Arthur's cheeks darkened again at the memory of just exactly how Merlin's magic affected him. It was untenable. Magic was outlawed, and if his father ever found out that he was not only harboring a sorcerer but using magic during _sex_ – Arthur wasn't sure that even his standing as heir to the throne would save him from execution, and Merlin would likely be killed on sight without so much as a token trial. Despoiling the crown prince with _magic_? It was so ridiculous that it brought a smile to Arthur's lips, despite the gravity of the situation and his embarrassment.

“Arthur, shh,” Merlin soothed, his fingertips still dancing along the sensitive skin of Arthur's hip. He'd pulled Arthur closer so they were nearly touching, and Arthur looked down, mesmerized by the sight of Merlin's softening cock so near to his own.

Merlin followed Arthur's gaze, taking an unconscious step back as he misinterpreted the wonder in Arthur's expression as revulsion.

“Nothing has to change,” Merlin said quietly, his fingers stilling their motion but not moving from Arthur's hip. He wanted that connection with Arthur and he'd keep it for as long as he was allowed. Even without the heady arousal that had sizzled between them earlier, Merlin's magic was still responding to touching Arthur. The feeling lacked the urgency the arousal had, but it was just as strong, filling Merlin with a sense of contentment that warmed him from the inside and calmed the magic that was usually coiled just under his skin.

“ _Everything_ has to change,” Arthur murmured, closing the gap between them and wrapping his arms around Merlin's shoulders.

Merlin stumbled forward, surprised, and gasped when the movement brought him flush up against Arthur's naked body. The feeling was like nothing he'd ever experienced before – raw, unbridled lust that felt like it was searing his skin, making him painfully hard within seconds and reawakening the passions he'd barely managed to contain earlier when his magic had been inside Arthur.

“I'll protect you,” Arthur whispered, his lips ghosting over the planes of Merlin's face with almost reverent grace. “I won't let anything harm you. I'll—”

Merlin laughed, feeling reckless and _free_ for the first time since his arrival at Camelot. He tipped his head back, letting Arthur kiss his way down the column of his throat, happiness bordering on euphoria bubbling up from inside him. Before Arthur could finish his promises, Merlin gathered his magic, using it to force Arthur to the forest floor. He grinned at Arthur's stunned expression, sweeping his hand out and away to clear the debris from around them and make the dirt as comfortable as the finest feather bed. Arthur shifted, his cock throbbing in time with the pulses of magic Merlin was sending out, eyes wide but fearless as he watched Merlin's display of power.

“I protect _you_ , Arthur,” Merlin murmured, dropping to the ground and straddling Arthur's hips, his arousal nudging against the firm skin of Arthur's belly. “Not the other way around.”

Much to Merlin's surprise, Arthur yielded. He closed his mouth, eyes heavily lidded but still watching Merlin, and let his legs fall open, nearly unseating Merlin in the process. Merlin responded by sending a tendril of magic out to further stretch Arthur, this one working its way inside him with much less care and finesse than Merlin had shown earlier. Arthur cried out, bucking his hips up to accommodate it, his eyes flying open as he watched Merlin fuck him open without even touching his arse.

“It's too much, Merlin, it's ah—” Arthur's words died out on a whimper, his hips writhing as he tried to take Merlin's magic deeper, despite his words. “I don't want the magic, I want _you_ ,” he panted, sagging in relief when the tendril of magic dissipated and Merlin crawled down his body, positioning himself at Arthur's entrance.

Merlin held Arthur's gaze for a moment as though asking permission, which Arthur thought was rather ridiculous given all the liberties Merlin had already taken. He huffed out a breath, pushing himself against the blunt intrusion of Merlin's cock, nearly sighing in relief when Merlin got the message and started the slow press inside. Arthur had only had sex with a man a few times and never as the one on the bottom, but he was familiar enough to know that without copious amounts of oil to ease the way, Merlin entering him should have been painful. Like the tendrils of magic that had stretched Arthur open, though, Merlin's cock was slicked by magic, and Arthur felt full and stretched to the brink. It was not, however, nearly as unpleasant as he had been prepared for, and Arthur wondered whether he had the magic to thank for that or if it was simply that it was Merlin. It would not have surprised him to learn that it was the latter.

When Merlin began to move, Arthur revised his mental review from not unpleasant to amazing. Sparks of pleasure warmed his belly, radiating out to his limbs and making Arthur nearly delirious with it. He could feel Merlin's pleasure and arousal, a faint backdrop to his own but still there, and it was almost enough to make him lose his head. He groaned when Merlin grabbed hold of his calves, his muscles burning as Merlin lifted them and pressed even further forward. Arthur wrapped his legs around Merlin's back, holding Merlin inside when he would have pulled out to thrust harder.

Understanding, Merlin bent, lips finding Arthur's throat as he canted his hips in short, shallow thrusts that had Arthur writhing and gasping for breath. Merlin's belly rubbed against his cock, slick from sweat and precome, as he moved, and the friction was too much for Arthur. He gritted his teeth as the first wave of his orgasm rolled over him, tightening his legs around Merlin's waist as he came. He could feel the warmth of Merlin's breath against his neck as Merlin joined him, swept over the edge by Arthur's pleasure. It was like no orgasm Arthur had ever experienced before; he felt like every muscle in his body was contracting, and his skin was suddenly sensitive to everything, Merlin's harsh breath making him moan, the cool sweep of the breeze along his legs making him shudder. It seemed to go on forever, until Arthur was nearly weak with it and could barely keep his legs locked around Merlin.

Merlin's arms shook with the effort of holding himself up through his own orgasm, sweat beading on his forehead as he rode out the best orgasm of his life. When his mind and body were finally his own again, he collapsed on top of Arthur, too shaky to even roll to the side. His skin tingled as his magic began to move over them once more, cleaning away the mess of their release as he slowly withdrew from Arthur’s body. Merlin was not aware of falling asleep, but when he opened his eyes again, he found that was still sprawled out over Arthur’s chest, his cock soft and sensitive where it lay between them. He made to move, but Arthur stilled him with a hand to his back, fingers sinking into his skin.

“Stay,” Arthur murmured, his voice thick with exhaustion.

His jaw cracking as he yawned, Merlin shifted out of Arthur’s grip and slid down beside him. Arthur frowned at him, but Merlin paid him no mind. He rolled onto his stomach, pulling Arthur with him, and sent out a tendril of magic to pull the blankets up around them. He tucked them both in, his magic caressing Arthur’s skin once more before slipping back inside Merlin. He sighed contentedly as Arthur’s weight settled over him, warm and heavy and certain. Just as he thought he was going to fall asleep, Arthur spoke.

“We’re going to have a real talk about this, just so you know. I should be furious not only that you’ve been lying to me, but that you didn’t have the nerve to bring it up on your own, but I’m not. That doesn’t mean you’re off the hook, though.” His arm tightened around Merlin, strong without feeling menacing. He wasn’t angry, just disappointed, and that hurt almost worse.

“I wanted to tell you, Arthur. I wanted to tell you more than anything.” Merlin hated how desperate and sad he sounded, but he was tired of hiding everything. He refused to let Arthur think it had been by choice, his silence, and not because he was afraid of losing Arthur, losing what they had. Then he felt Arthur’s lips, dry and slightly chapped, at the back of his neck, and Merlin’s breath hitched in his chest. “I planned to tell you on the night of your coronation. I was going to pledge myself and my magic to you, bind us both to your land, your crown and kingdom so that you would know I— _we_ —were yours.”

Arthur wanted to argue that Merlin could have trusted him sooner, but then his mind flashed back to Morgause, with her shade of his mother, and to Morgana, bitter and filled with hate, sitting on his father’s throne. Arthur knew Merlin had been right to wait. He did not like it, but Arthur understood Merlin’s reasoning. For now, that was enough. But as sleep began to creep in on the edges of awareness, Arthur added,

“I trust you, Merlin. I have for quite some time. So from now on, no more secrets.”

Merlin drifted off nodding.  



End file.
